The Last Queen

by Christine McKay

  She’d never been kissed this way before. The sensation of both being kissed and actually doing the kissing warred within her, his and her thoughts tangling so that she couldn’t identify which was which. His tongue gently traced the inner line of her lips. One hand tangled in her hair. The other cupped her cheek. His thumb stroked her chin and jaw. His mind touched hers, caressed her in places she didn’t know existed and sent hot shivers through her body until everything seemed on fire. She pressed against him, feeling his chest expand and contract. Her world narrowed to a single shared heartbeat between the two, the rise and fall of chests in unison, and a rush of blood in her ears.

  It was he who separated them.

  She ached for his touch. This was a hunger she knew how to abate.

  His eyes were a deep green, heavy-lidded, gold glints now sparking in their depths, lips glistening with her taste. “Forgive me. I should not have taken such liberties with my Queen.” His voice was husky, but his eyes gleamed, not at all contrite.

  All coherent thought had fled the moment his lips touched hers. “Um, sure.” She congratulated herself on even finding her voice.

  He pulled them to their feet. “I am remiss. It is nearly dawn and you have yet to rest.”

  “Rest?”

  He chuckled, pleased with his effect on her.

  Way to go, Adrianne. Way to stroke that man’s ego even more. Stroke. A very bad word to use in her current state of arousal. Oh, she wanted to stroke all right. Add devour, possess and ravage to that mix. If Nikki constantly lived with this type of desire, she pitied her.

  Back in the ship, he led her to a sleeping chamber, a darkened room with two beds. Nikki was already asleep in one of them. So much for her friend worrying about her. She sat on the edge of the bed. Navarre removed her fur-lined boots, massaging each foot as he did so.

  She couldn’t prevent the sigh that escaped her lips.

  He undid the clasp at her neck, eased off her jacket and then laid a kiss on the expanse of white that was revealed. Her hands crept to his hair, her fingers mussing the mass of gold. It was chenille to the touch, as fine as smooth-spun silk. Her breath hitched.

  He held completely still. Her fingertip traced the line of his strong jaw, lingering where his pulse beat fast and erratic.

  She was pleased he was as affected as she. “I don’t want to go to sleep alone,” she whispered.

  “You are safe here.”

  “I have nightmares,” she lied. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  “This is how we chase away the night terrors.” Unrepentant, he kissed her on the cheek, teasingly close to her lips.

  “Mmm.” She shivered. But he let her slip out of her fur-lined pants on her own. When she lay down, he drew a warm coverlet of gray over her.

  That was it? Her body demanded so much more. She knew his demanded the same.

  He stood and returned to the panel in the wall. “Rest easy, Dragoness.” His eyes flashed jade in the darkness.

  “Navarre?”

  He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

  “You called me Erifydal once. Why?”

  “It was the name you gave yourself at birth. When you called, it is the name I heard.”

  “Did the entire Dragoon hear me or just you?”

  “Just I.”

  She was silent for a long moment. “We’ve met before.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  She propped herself up on elbow. The darkness still hid his face from her. “In another life?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Who am I? Erifydal or Adrianne?”

  “Only you can answer that, my Queen. Rest easy now and do not dream.”

  She heard the panel slide shut. “Navarre?” she whispered. But he was already gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Sleep claimed Adrianne quickly. The bed conformed to her body perfectly, cradling her in a marshmallowy down-like mattress. She said a quiet thank you out loud and felt the wall she was pressed against hum, like the purr of a satisfied cat.

  She had an uncanny feeling that the ship was sentient and made a mental note to talk to Navarre about it in the morning. That anything five hundred feet long could be alive was mind-boggling. And what in God’s name did it eat? She couldn’t imagine the size of the manure pile it must create. Before she could visualize being suffocated by a giant pile of excrement, she drifted off to sleep.

  In her dreams she was a sleek and silvery dragon, her body a gleaming iridescent bullet in the moonlight. She soared across the same expanse of water Navarre had taken her to, dipping and rolling in the air currents. The wind shared its secrets with her, whispering of comets slicing its sky, birds twisting in mating flights, fireflies winking away one more time before dying. This was nature’s freedom of choice.

  She reminded herself that such freedom came with a cost. Doug, for one. After tasting Navarre, though, the thought of Doug’s hands on her was repulsive. Nikki, number two. Nikki had a thriving little business, her bar, The Beast, catered to the fringes. The heavily tattooed, leather-clad, gothic types who listened to screaming music at a decibel level bound to cause permanent hearing loss came to her bar as well as those whose fetishes pushed them out of normal establishments. Nikki had been mother, confidant, counselor and so much more to her. She could not bear to lose her.

  Doug and Nikki, though, were but dreams within her dreams. She continued to fly. Where she was drawn, she did not know. She felt the strength of her beating wings, the teasing air as it nipped her scales. The night sky spread out above and below her, the stars tantalizingly out of reach. Could she soar that high? Tonight was not the time to tempt Fate.

  And still she was drawn onward. Eventually, she became aware of other bodies beside, above and below her. They were little more than ghosts in the moonlight, washed-out shadows of other dragons. Their auras were undeniably feminine.

  They played with her as she flew, shadowing her dips and rolls. An escort? Her personal bodyguards? Or merely spirits roused by her own midnight wanderings? Like Doug and Nikki, they soon faded into the dream’s tapestry.

  At last she grew tired and landed, settling deep in a nest of broken branches and brambles. Curling up with her tail over her nose, she slept.

  She woke to a soft noise. A muted light tugged at her eyelids. Nikki stirred, padding past her on her way to another room. Human sounds reached her, running water, the splashing of someone bathing. A bath would feel good, she decided, as would warm food in her belly. She drifted off again, awoke when Nikki tripped and stubbed her foot on the edge of the bed.

  “Sorry.”

  Adrianne rolled onto her stomach, nestled deep in the marshmallow covers. “Mmm, s’okay.” Stretching, she extended her forepaws, sitting back on her haunches. Her wings arched. And she panicked. Where were her wings? She opened her eyes and saw the small pale-skinned human hands before her. Pressing her face to the mattress, she let the last dregs of her dream flee. Only the yearning for her lost shape remained.

  “That looks relaxing.” Nikki examined her yoga pose. “But I really need to get back to my life.”

  Adrianne lifted her head. Nikki was up and dressed, her wet dark hair sleek against her scalp like sealskin. Adrianne sighed. “I should call the office. It’s not like me to be that irresponsible. They’ll start to worry.” With the accident, though, no one would expect to hear from her for some time. She was sure her manager had found a replacement instructor for her last class of the year.

  “At least you have an excuse. I trust Mark and the gang to keep the place running, but I need to do payroll and all those other mundane tasks.” Mark was the head bartender, a forty-something man who wore his gray-streaked hair shoulder length and insisted on calling Nikki “Nicole”. Nikki, for some reason, tolerated it from him even though she’d backhand Adrianne for the same offense.

  Adrianne propped herself up on her elbows. “You can just suspend disbelief, accept there are aliens and go on with your life?”

 
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Have you seen some of the people in my bar? I wouldn’t doubt that I’ve been serving aliens for years.”

  Adrianne gave her a black stare. “You know what I mean.”

  “Well, I’m not somebody’s Queen nor am I being hunted down by some creepy-looking dogs from another planet. I kind of figured you’d be hanging out here.”

  “I haven’t really given it much thought,” she lied.

  “Wait…let me write this down. You haven’t thought? You’ve managed to not psychoanalyze every little detail? I feel faint.” Nikki sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Yeah, yeah, Ms. Drama Queen herself. I mean it’s hard to believe this isn’t just some nasty trip I’ve taken. I feel like if someone pinched me, I’d wake up in the hospital.”

  Nikki promptly pinched her.

  “Ouch.” Adrianne grabbed her arm, sat upright and flung a pillow at her.

  Nikki dodged the projectile. “Still here.” She rearranged herself more comfortably on her bed, sitting cross-legged. “If I were you, and God forbid I was, number one, I’d worry about not ditching your best friend and then number two, I’d dump that loser of a boyfriend before he and the Dragoon meet. Much as I dislike the man, I wouldn’t wish him dead.”

  Would the Dragoon really kill Doug? She knew that happened in some species in the animal kingdom, the weaker male falling before the stronger. Were the Dragoon not that far removed from their animal roots? Really, what had they evolved from? Man? Beast? A bad genetic mix? Maybe they were prime examples of why people shouldn’t be messing with gene splicing.

  “Doug’s not a loser.” Adrianne sat up. If she admitted he was, what did that say about her?

  “He was convenient for you. No sense having him get caught up in this. And by the sounds of it, you can have whomever you want.” She shook her finger at Adrianne. “But not Quince.”

  Adrianne flushed, but shot back, “Pity. I was hoping to tie him up and leave bruises all over his body.” Not that she’d ever done that, but it was exactly something Nikki would and probably had done.

  “I want him,” Nikki said flatly.

  “Is this a long-term sort of thing or do I get him back when you’ve tired of him?” she pressed, teasing. She’d never heard such a possessive note in Nikki’s voice.

  “How can you not want a man like that?” Nikki gushed, sidestepping the question. Then she realized she had revealed too much. Adrianne’s eyes narrowed, but Nikki continued on hurriedly, “Thirteen men at your disposal and if they are all even half as cute as Quince and Navarre, I envy you.”

  How much had Quince shared with her? Did Nikki really comprehend that he was a shapeshifter? Ouch, she could picture Nikki requesting sexual favors that certainly crossed her own moral boundaries. Stop thinking, she ordered herself.

  Nothing might have gone on. She’d seen Nikki in action, though. Nikki went through men like some people went through cigarettes, knowing full well the habit would kill her some day and not caring. A month with the same man was the highest level of commitment she’d ever seen from her. And he’d been a Kama Sutra master, or so Nikki said. Pity it had only taken a month to get through all the possible poses.

  “Go with your gut.” Nikki patted her hand. “Despite the bedhead, you’re looking better than you have in a long time.

  Adrianne sighed. She did feel better. Just thinking about Navarre’s kiss was enough to make the heat slip through her body like hot lava. A smile crept up her lips, sneaking into her eyes. “Navarre is pretty hot.”

  “Hot?” Nikki laughed. “Just drive another stake through my heart. I know I’ve never heard you describe a guy that way.” It was Nikki’s turn for her eyes to narrow. “Just what were you and Navarre up to?”

  “Never you mind.” Adrianne stood. “If you haven’t used up all the hot water, I’m going to grab a bath before breakfast.”

  “Ha!” Nikki pounced at her, grabbing her shoulder. “You were up to something. Spill it.”

  Adrianne shrugged her off. “I’m bathing, sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  Nikki was still standing where she left her, a thrilled expression on her face. “I’m so proud. You actually took the initiative.”

  “Flattery won’t pry any details out of me.” Adrianne turned on the water. “Where’s the—oh!” The bathtub drain sealed itself shut, like a whale closing its blowhole.

  “Well then, the way I see it, after breakfast you can drop me off at my car, make a trip to Doug’s to break up with him—gotta do that in person or you just look gauche—and then pick up your belongings at the apartment.” Her voice thickened, but she kept her tone light.

  Adrianne stepped back into the bedroom and gave Nikki a hug. “I won’t forget you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we will keep in touch. I promise.”

  Nikki tightened her embrace. “I’m not going to cry.” She pulled away.

  Adrianne left her to compose herself, touched that Nikki cared so deeply for her. After her bath, Nikki was waiting with a hairbrush and something that looked suspiciously like a blow-dryer. “I found supplies.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, lips pressed tight. “As their Queen, you need to spend a bit more time on your appearance.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way I look,” Adrianne huffed. She wasn’t a vain person, but that hurt.

  “Sit,” Nikki commanded.

  She sat, grumbling under her breath.

  “Don’t you want to look your best? Especially for Navarre?”

  She felt herself go hot at the mention of his name.

  Good morning, Dragoness. As if waiting for his cue, Navarre’s voice drifted lazily into her mind.

  I wish you wouldn’t do that.

  You called me.

  I did not!

  Are you ready to break your fast? he asked, pointedly refusing to argue with her.

  She smiled to herself. Almost.

  The others are anxious to meet you. Would you mind sharing this meal with them?

  Do I have a choice?

  You will always.

  She couldn’t read the tone in his voice, not exactly accusing, more reprimanding than anything else. Yes, I suppose I should. She’d feel safer facing them with Nikki at her side. “The whole crew is going to turn out to meet us this morning,” she warned Nikki.

  You have nothing to fear, Navarre persisted.

  Nikki continued to fuss with her hair. “Quince mentioned that last night.”

  But everything to lose. She fidgeted in her seat. “Seems you and Quince got pretty friendly. What else did you and Quince share?”

  Nikki grinned, her dark complexion glowing like sun-warmed wet sand. “Hold still, I’m almost done.”

  So much more to gain, Navarre whispered, drifting away.

  “I’ll share a secret with you, if you share with me,” Adrianne offered.

  “Tempting.” Nikki paused. “Not a chance.”

  There was a polite rap at the panel.

  “Come on in,” Nikki called. “Show time,” she said cheerfully to Adrianne.

  It seemed an eternity since the entire Dragoon had broke their fast together. They hadn’t exactly chosen each other’s company. As the last of their race, they bonded more from necessity than anything else. At their peak, there were many clans that warred amongst themselves. Queens were stolen and entire clutches destroyed just to exact revenge. Even when the Hunters began their killing spree, it was difficult to put their differences aside and work together. That was one of the reasons why it’d been so easy for the Hunters to kill them off.

  And just because they happened to inhabit the same ship didn’t make them all friends. Lancet, Graycet and Percet were all brothers, although one could never tell. They fought with one another constantly over petty differences. There was a longstanding underlying animosity between them stemming from their clan’s loss of their last Queen. They shared one common goal, to keep that shame as quiet as possible. Hennison and Henley had served as officers in the Galacti
c League. They’d given up their posts when they found out they were the last of their clan. Rumor had it that Quince had a Queen, but what became of her was unknown. Barth’s and Verlay’s pasts were even more shadowy. Barth was very jovial, but kept a close wrap on his emotions. Verlay heralded from one of the biggest clans and managed to survive the whole-scale slaughter of it by hiding beneath the body of one of his relatives. Then there was Adonthe. He was a water dragon, unable to fly, but quite agile when he took his flippered form and swam.

  Together, the remnants of the once-glorious Dragoon could provide a psychologist with a lifetime of fodder.

  Adonthe prepared the breakfast meal and arranged the seating area, a U-shape with five to each side so all could get equal viewing of their Queen. Each place setting was meticulously set, utensils polished until they gleamed, napkins carefully folded, and a color scheme that would have impressed even the most anal interior designer. Generations of Queens had eaten off the very same plates.

  It was Adonthe who looked after the more mundane homemaking tasks, the cooking, the cleaning, the mending and the preservation of innumerable Dragoon emblems, all carefully embroidered into tapestries just waiting to embellish their new home. Everything had to be just so for their Queen.

  The room buzzed with quiet anticipation, speculation and out-and-out rumor. Navarre paced beside the panel.

  “You have done well,” Benito congratulated, patting Navarre on the back. “Vespero will chronicle this moment in our history annals. Your name will be spoken upon our children’s children’s lips.”

  “And if she runs away instead?” Navarre said.

  Benito laughed. “He will chronicle that as well. Do not spoil this day with worry. This is a time of celebration. We have our Queen. I thought I would not live long enough to see this day dawn.”

  Would she come to hate him for finding her and revealing her true identity? Navarre could not bear to think of her turning away from him. Not with the taste of her still fresh in his mind. He would be her Chosen. No other.